


listening with

by polterguy



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: F/F, First Date, Fluff, may add chapters later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polterguy/pseuds/polterguy
Summary: Zoe learns that it doesn’t matter what she listens to.





	listening with

Alana Beck and Zoe Murphy are fundamentally different people.   
Zoe has a brother, and Alana is an only child. Alana has a dad that sees the world in her - expects the world of her, too, - while Zoe is surprised on the rare occasions when her father cares what she does.  
Zoe listens to a lot of music: Jazz, soft rock, heavy metal, indie folk, pop. Alana listens mostly to older stuff, and by older, she means WAY older. Classical, sometimes opera if she wants to spice it up. Helps her think, helps her focus while she works. Funnily enough, opera turns out to be one of the few genres that Zoe Murphy can't stand.  
And yet...

Zoe slips on a simple dress and leaves the house late, after creaking her bedroom door open painfully slow. Her brother, who never sleeps and doesn't have a door, glances over at her as she passes by his room, and she stops in her tracks, staring back blankly like a deer caught in the headlights. Connor shrugs and almost-smiles(?) at her, silently, and lies back down as if to say, "I didn't see anything."   
It's not often that Zoe has anything good to say about her brother, but she's gotta admit that he's no snitch. She appreciates it.  
She hasn't got time to appreciate, though, because she's got a date in -- she checks her watch -- twenty minutes, and it'll take at least fifteen to get there if she leaves right now and there's no traffic. She tip-toes down the stairs and then runs in her tights, gliding on the wood floor. She feels a bit like something graceful, a ballerina, a figure skater, as she slides over to her purse, before settling her feet into her heels and grabbing her keys. She pulls out of the driveway, and her pretending has shifted from figure skater to espionage or secret agent or getaway driver.   
On her way there, she gets a text, and she almost reads it, but doesn't, because even though she usually doesn't care about the law, this time she really doesn't want to die before she gets there.   
Once she's parked in downtown, she checks her phone to see that it was a text from the girl she's meeting, telling her that she's there already and will be sitting on the bench by the south entrance of the park. Zoe's friends in jazz band had set her up with the only other single gay girl they knew, and despite protests on both ends, they had eventually swapped numbers and agreed to meet, even if only by swapped notes from across a classroom.   
Zoe steps out of the car and locks it, then sprints over to the park across the street. (In that way that girls faux-jog when they've got heels on, where they take fast, click-clack steps and their arms lock into a cute swing by their sides. Zoe finds it dainty in a way that is unlike herself.)   
When she gets to the south end, she sees her, illuminated by a street lamp, waving at her. The other girl is standing as tall as she can, and certainly looks more girlish and cute. Zoe's reminded of a cartoon character.   
This girl is in a button-down shirt tucked into a modest but youthful skirt, white socks and sensible shoes. Her hair's up in a way that lets Zoe see the pearly teardrop earrings she has on, and the subtle makeup she's done - just a shimmer on her lids, light mascara, and a lip gloss of some sort. She is glittering, she is ethereal in the eyes of Zoe, who is now feeling embarrassed because she can't remember the lovely lady's name.

"Hey," Zoe smiles and waves back, her heels clicking as she walks closer to greet her.   
"Alana Beck," is the answer she gets to the question she never asked out loud. "And you?"  
"Zoe Murphy," she says back, and then Alana has extended her right hand for Zoe to shake. She does, saying "Nice to meet you, uh officially." It's not unlike a business deal.  
"Well, Zoe Murphy, I hope you like music. I've got two tickets to La Traviata, so we should probably get going and the theatre is pretty much just around the corner!"  
"Cool," Zoe nods, following after Alana, who's leading the way. "Wait, who's La Traviata? What kinda stuff do they play?"  
"Oh, uh, actually... La Traviata isn't a band," Alana sheepishly grins back at her.  
"Well, what is it, then? Like... a musical?"  
"Sorta. It's an opera. An old one."  
When Zoe fails to repress a groan, Alana looks a bit disheartened.   
"Oh, do you not like-"  
"I hate opera," Zoe spits out, looking down. "Sorry."

Alana is quiet for a moment and Zoe pinches her own side, silently chastising herself for being rude.  
Then, without warning, Alana launches back into full-cheer.   
"Well, lucky for you, you're with Alana Beck," she chimes, smirking in a way as innocent as a smirk could be. “You’re going to enjoy this opera, whether you want to or not!”  
“Is that a threat?”  
“Maybe.”

—

It somehow didn’t occur to Zoe that something called La Traviata may not be in English.  
‘ _What the fuck_ ’, she thinks to herself as the intro song begins. Alana smiles over at her in a way that satiates Zoe enough to stay still and watch for a while.   
‘ _It’s not bad, actually. At least the actors can actually sing, pretty well it seems_.’  
‘ _Okay, wow. Is she- uhh_ ’  
Zoe feels something on her left hand, and her thoughts cut off. She looks over and- no. She— why?  
Alana has put her own hand in Zoe’s, and is smiling like a maniac. With her free hand, she points at the stage and whispers, “Look, look! This is the best part!”

—

After the opera is over, and the lights come back on in the theatre, Zoe still has a shocked expression plastered over her face.   
“Sooo,” Alana teases, “Not as boring as you thought?”  
“Wh- Oh. No, I think I,” Zoe averts her gaze, “I really enjoyed myself, actually. Thank you.”  
“That’s good, because I’ve already invested in our second date. Next Saturday, is that okay?”  
“Oh!! Yes!!” Zoe stammers, already excited for another chance to see the lovely lady once more.   
“Great. during intermission, I got us two tickets to Beethoven’s fifth!”  
“Sounds good.”

Alana smiles and giddily pecks Zoe on the cheek. Zoe goes red.

”Sounds excellent.”

**Author's Note:**

> in case ya couldnt tell, this fic was inspired by the song Cecily Smith from the musical Fly By Night! check it out, esp if u like will conolly!!


End file.
